A Spy's Secrets
by BlueGryphon
Summary: Okay, this is Severitus, but hopefully with a difference. Harry goes from being a kid without a family to one with hordes of relatives. What happens when he goes to them for the summer? And what about Hogwarts? Pranks will feature majorly.
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: I know this isn't my usual sort of thing, but a Severitus is something that I feel I should have a go at. I'm hoping that this will have a lot of new ideas coming up in it later on. Please R + R and tell me what you think about it.  
  
What were the ingredients for a Deathless Sleep potion, Harry thought desperately, working hard at his potions essay. No, he couldn't remember. He'd have to owl Her. . .  
  
CRACK!!!!  
  
Harry automatically whipped out his want like a shot and spun round to face the intruder.  
"Stupefy!" he called, thanking the gods for the abandonment of the ban on underage wizardry now that the Ministry had acknowledged Voldemort's return. The intruder slumped to the floor. Harry rolled her over, recognizing the bubble gum pink hair. Checking for further identification, he found an Auror's pass card for the Ministry. It was Tonks.  
"Enervate," he whispered. Tonks's eyes opened, but she still looked a bit disorientated.  
"Wotcher Harry. Is that how you say hi to all of your guests these days? Mad Eye would be proud of you, he's always saying that you have sense."  
"Sorry," said Harry guiltily.  
"Don't be. I should have warned you I was coming, but I really didn't have time. You know what the powers that be are like if you start running late. Anyway, Gramps wants you at Hogwarts. He's had some private news that I think only he knows so far, but I think its gonna come as a shock to you."  
"How do you know? And who's Gramps?"  
"I always read his mail before I give it to him, its one advantage of being told off as post collector. Gramps is Dumbledore, he's my grandfather, you see. My dad changed his name when he discovered for sure that he was a Squib. I use Tonks all the time, always have. Anyway, Nymphadora Andromeda Dumbledore is even worse that N. Tonks, don't you think?"  
"Uh yes, I guess."  
"I'm just confusing you now. I do that to people a lot, I'm afraid. I've set up a portkey to take you straight to Hogwarts, activating inn 5-4- 3-2-1. . ."  
  
Harry felt the now familiar jerk as he appeared in Dumbledore's office. The man himself was sitting at his desk, a bedraggled, tearstained letter in his hands.  
"Harry, take a seat. You too, Nymphadora, since this concerns you also."  
"Tonks please, or I'll start calling you Gramps in front of the others!!!"  
"Okay, okay. I'll concede you the victory for now. It's your birthday today, isn't it Harry?"  
"Yes," Harry answered cautiously, not knowing where this could be leading.  
"And you're sixteen years old."  
"Yes."  
"I received a letter this morning. Here, I'll read it to you. Listen carefully."  
  
Dear Gramps,  
I hope you've got this letter on time, cos if its late, its pretty much completely worthless. If you're reading it, it means that I'm dead, the charms on my son have held up until now and today is his sixteenth birthday. If this is true read on. The boy, who I'm sure you know under a false name, will be brought up by my best friend and her husband. I know that I'm high on the Death Eater blacklist, so I had to come up with this for the baby's sake, however hard it's been for me. I'm not stupid enough to put names in a letter that might fall into the wrong hands, but there ought to be enough clues for you to work everything out.  
  
He has been charmed to resemble his adoptive parents, and it took me all of two weeks to complete the charms so they'd better have lasted. My best friend helped me. Now that he is sixteen, they will gradually fade over the next month, until, on the last day of August, he is in his natural form.  
  
His biological father I hope is still alive. Before you start accusing him of negligence HE DOES NOT KNOW THERE WAS A CHILD. We had a relationship, but there was no way we could marry with the current political situation, as I'm sure you will see when you figure it all out. You can trust him with your life, I know I did, even if he is a greasy furred rat instead of a griff. As to his identity, let's see. Do you remember the Hallowe'en ball that was held during my seventh year at Hogwarts? He was the boy that you caught me kissing then. You then 'ported me to your study and proceeded to deliver a sex ed lecture that I'd already been given three times. Still, it was funny, because you were blushing furiously the whole way through. Come to think of it, I'm sure that my boyfriend will definitely remember the incident - I doubt having a girl vanish in the middle of a kiss is a particularly forgettable event!  
  
If you choose not to renew the appearance charms, my son will need a name. I'm fully aware that there's nothing I can do about it, but I'd like to suggest that he's named after my favourite brother. It's a common enough name, so no harm done. The rest is completely up to 'Ratty', so long as you can get him to wash his fur.  
  
All of my love to you, my son, Ratty, Ted, the kid and my fav brother, and to the 'mudblood' if she's still around. I know my son's in the best hands possible with you around.  
Loving you always  
Buzz  
  
There was silence for a moment, as Harry and Tonks looked at each other. Neither of them had understood more than one in three of the sentences, but they were reluctant to admit it.  
"Sir, what does it mean?" Harry asked bluntly at last, seeing that it was up to him. Dumbledore sighed, and began to explain, looking heartbroken.  
"The letter is from my granddaughter, Alba. She was killed just a month before Lily and James. Alba was special. She was the Auror commander at jus twenty-four, and amazingly powerful. Her best friend was Lily Evans."  
"So, she was my mum?" Harry asked curiously, although he felt like a stranger, a bystander, like it wasn't really happening to him at all, it couldn't be.  
"Apparently so, Harry. If it is correct, I'm sure that we will see it. She did love you, before you start to disbelieve that, else she wouldn't have given you to Lily. Alba was obsessive about keeping those she loved safe, a bit like you are sometimes. She even requested that Nymphadora, the 'kid' mentioned, came to Hogwarts a year early because she thought that anyone she was related to be would be a target. He favourite brother was Marc; they were as close as say Fred and George Weasley are. You couldn't imagine one without the other. He was killed at the same time as her. They took twenty-five Death Eaters with them into death."  
  
Harry thought for a moment, then,  
"So who's my father?" he said, not really sure that he wanted to hear the answer.  
"That took me longer to discover. Alba was too clever for her own good. All that talk of Ratty misled me into thinking of Pettigrew, until I asked Remus. He told me that she'd taken to calling Gryffindors 'griffs' and Slytherins 'rats' while they were at school, however illogical it sounded. That meant that your father was a Slytherin while he was at school."  
"I've guessed," Harry said dully. "It's Snape, isn't it. The greasy haired git's my dad."  
"He's actually quite presentable cleaned up, as I remember," Dumbledore protested. "I told him this morning, and he was shocked. I suppose going for five years hating a boy because of who his father was, then discovering he's your son must be a bit upsetting. He had a hard time thinking of Alba. They soul bonded, I'm sure of it, although she wouldn't begrudge him his present happiness. I sent him home to recover, and to give you some time to let it sink in. For the meantime, I have arranged for a room here in the castle for you to have. I hope you like it."  
"Thank you sir."  
"Tonks will show it to you. Think it over for me. I'd rather you didn't' write to your friends, but Remus is here if you need him." 


	2. Chapter 2

Harry stood up and followed Tonks out of the room and down the stairs. They walked in an uncomfortable silence, even Tonks seemed to have nothing to say for once - she was probably just surprised at how well he was taking it all. Everything seemed unreal so far. They stopped by a portrait opposite the Fat Lady, of Wilhelm Wronski, a famous Seeker who was one of Harry's heroes. He was the renowned player who had invented the Wronski Feint, the bane of Madam Hooch's life. That wasn't strictly true. It would be the bane of her life just as soon as Harry learned to do it properly without knocking himself out too - not a good idea in the middle of a match, especially with the Weasley twins around to murder him if he lost them the game. It was one of his main Quidditch ambitions for the future.  
"Well, this is it, cous'" Tonks said cheerfully, gesturing at the portrait. "The password's 'Firebolt' for now, but you can change it if you want. Uncle Sev sorted the room for you this morning, so I hope you like it. I reckon its cool, if you ask me. They asked sent me down to Hogsmead to do the shopping for it."  
"Uncle Sev?"  
"If he was with my aunt, that makes him my uncle, right? Don't even think about contradicting my logic, because its mostly based on what I want, just as it always has been. It's been my bane ever since I started writing essays - I'd make connections that weren't even there. Anyway, he'll be a picture when I first call him that; so make sure you're around. Oh, one other thing about names - always call Albus 'Gramps', it drives him mad!"  
"Okay," Harry said doubtfully, wondering how long it would take for him to be blasted into blissful oblivion by his newly discovered great grandfather. It might be an improvement, considering the number of shocks he'd had so far today.  
  
It was a fair sized room, although, like most Hogwarts rooms, it would probably change size to suit its occupant's needs and wishes. There was a four poster bed over in the far corner just like the one Harry slept in when he was in the Gryffindor dormitory, a desk (a hint, perhaps?) and bookshelves, as well as plenty of floor space. Around the walls were large posters of Viktor Krum, the Chudley Cannons, the Tornados, the Quidditch World Cup and other Quidditch related themes, most of which Harry could identify instantly. It was a bit worrying, the amount of information he'd discovered that he could dredge out of his otherwise reluctant memory.  
"Wow! And Snape did all of this? You're really sure it wasn't Remus?"  
"I think he was called in to advise, but it was ah Uncle Sev who actually did it. I wonder what he looks like with clean hair. You know, I've never seen him after he's washed it. I don't think he washes it at all during term time."  
"Eeuuuww. Tonks, do you know what my mum looked like, because I can't remember her."  
"Gramps would forget something important like that, wouldn't he? Yeah, I remember her okay - I was just about to start at Hogwarts when she was killed. I'll show you, if you want, just give me a moment to get a fix on her."  
  
A glazed looked came over her face, as though she was concentrating very hard, then there was a distinct pop and she changed. Harry was, for once, very glad that she was a Metamorphmagus. The woman whose image she was now was stunning, even allowing for a ten-year-old's memory. Her loose, blue- black hair hung, dead straight, just below her shoulders. Every strand was exactly in place. Misty grey eyes looked out at Harry from a face that was pale and smooth, but smiling in a way that Harry was sure Tonks never had.  
"Thanks," he said quietly.  
"Any time, cous'" Then Harry had a sudden thought, and asked curiously, thinking that now he might get an honest answer,  
"Uh, what do you really look like? I mean, you weren't born with pink hair, were you?" Tonks looked at him measuringly. Then she grinned at him and nodded. Harry smirked. He knew for a fact that Ron had been trying to get this out of her since they'd met.  
"I don't tell many people, but you're one of the family now."  
  
Immediately, with no thought at all, she shifted. Now in what was surely her true form, Tonks grinned at Harry. Her hair was only a bit duller than her aunt's and was cut just below her ears. Deep blue eyes sparkled above a pert nose that Harry could tell foretold mischief, however unlikely it sounded.  
"I'll leave you to settle in," she said at last, changing back to her normal disguise. "Just remember, you're my cousin, and I'm here if you need me."  
  
Harry felt his mouth spreading into a smile as a wave of gratitude flowed through him. For almost the first time in his life, he had a sense of completely belonging.  
"Why did uh my mum call herself Buzz?" he asked suddenly.  
"Its from Dumbledore, which means bumblebee apparently, don't ask me academic stuff, I only just scraped my NEWTs. Gramps calls me it a lot, when no one's around. You can too, if you want, now that you know I'm not really a Tonks. I don't even like being called Tonks that much anyway; it's just so much better than ugh Nymphadora. See you later then." She slipped out, closing the portrait behind her.  
  
Harry sprawled on the bed, closing his eyes while his brain desperately tried to think through everything that had just happened. It was all happening too fast! He knew, intellectually at any rate, that he should be in a state of rebellion at being revealed to be Snape's son, but it didn't seem strange at all. Maybe it was just that it hadn't sunk in, because it surely wasn't something that he'd anticipated. Suddenly, instead of being the tragically orphaned Harry Potter, whose only relatives were as Muggle as they come, he had a father, a cousin and a great grandfather, maybe there were others he didn't know about, but they were all wizards.  
  
Still, however odd it seemed to Harry, Snape at least seemed to be willing to make an effort, and a considerable one if what he could see so far was any indication. He had to admit that the room was cool, and it must have taken absolutely ages, even with Remus helping. He was actually rather pleased to hear this - it just explained so many things. Why he looked so much like James. What had made the Sorting Hat so nearly place him in Slytherin. The strange feeling he'd had about Snape the very first time they'd met. The list seemed to go on and on.  
  
He opened his eyes again. Everything was blurred. Harry shut his eyes again hurriedly - it hurt, as though he badly needed new glasses, although his had been fine that morning. In a moment of inspiration, he removed his glasses and cautiously looked again, remembering that his illusion charms would be wearing off. He couldn't help grinning as everything came immediately into focus - at last he was rid of his hated glasses! Despite them being almost as much of a trademark as his scar, he'd despised them since the first day he'd been given them. If they weren't broken, they were uncomfortable. If they weren't in the way, they'd be misted up or covered in rain so that he couldn't see at all. Checking in a mirror that hung next to his bed, Harry saw that, as he had guessed, his eyes had gone the same mysterious shade as his mother's had been. 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: sorry this took so long, but I had German exchange and its taken me a while to get going again. Back to a more normal update schedule now, so enjoy this, and R+R when you're done.  
  
There was a cautious tap on the wall by the portrait. Harry looked up, startled out of his jumbled thoughts and wondering who on earth it could be.  
"Come in." Hearing his assent, the portrait swung open and Remus Lupin slipped quietly in.  
"Harry. Are you okay?" Harry said up again abruptly.  
"Just about, thanks. I don't think it's really sunk in properly yet, though that could be a good thing."  
"I'd say that it's started though. Your eyes are just like I remember Alba's being."  
"I know. Tonks - Buzz - showed me. Dumb - Gramps forgot that I'd want to know what she looked like, I'd don't have any photographs of her at all," Harry said, sighing slightly as he realized how long it might take him to get used to these new names for people he already knew quite well.  
  
Remus looked as if he was about to choke.  
"What did you just call him?"  
"What? Gramps? It's what Buzz said I should say. Seems like it drives him mad, but I think he's just putting it on. You really don't want to know what she's planning on calling Professor Snape. Oh damn, what do you do suppose I should call him now? I can hardly go around calling him Professor, can I?"  
"I haven't got a clue. Albus asked me to give you this, since he forgot."  
  
Harry took a cloudy glass ball about the same size as a tennis ball from his old teacher and looked at it, totally stumped for what he was meant to do with it. There wasn't any obvious way of opening it, it wasn't a Remembrall. . .  
"Uh, what is it?" he asked at last, finally deciding to admit defeat.  
"It's a memory ball, a Memoranbrall. Every wizard child has one, all purebloods at any rate. You parents key it to you when you're born and it records your life until you turn five. Its normally so that if there's any trauma or important events that a small child can't be relied on to remember, the Aurors or Healers can use it as evidence or to help them come to terms with it. Do you see the pattern on it, on the side facing you?"  
"Yes, it's like a circle with a cross through it. One of the signs of the Old Magic, isn't it?"  
"Quite the scholar now, aren't we Harry? Yes, that's the key to unlocking it. I'd wondered why before, but its quite obvious. I'd press it to your forehead where your scar is. You'll find that its no longer a lightning bolt. Do you want me to wait here while you absorb it all? It can be a bit disturbing. I remember when I took mine, I needed to relive when I was first bitten, it totally threw all of my previous memories of my childhood."  
"That'll be okay for me," Harry said bitterly. "I can't remember anything about my parents. Any of them. Thanks anyway, I'll probably want to talk about it."  
"That's fine Harry, I'll be here when you need me."  
  
Harry pressed the cool glass surface to his head. There was a tug centering from his forehead and the world went blurry. A muddle of images rushed into his mind, he didn't know where from. They were all bright, amazingly bright and everything was huge to him.  
  
He was born. He looked at his mother's beaming face for the first time in a small wooden cabin in the middle of nowhere. He was shown proudly to Lily Potter and looked up into her twinkling green eyes as she played with him. He was handed just as proudly on to James Potter, promptly reached up to tug his hair and was told that he was going to be a Seeker for sure. He squirmed desperately as his two mothers set the illusion charms, breaking down themselves many times in the process. His mother, Alba, cried, heartbroken, as she handed him to Lily for the last time. James, Sirius and Remus were playing with him, he'd just been given his first toy snitch for his first birthday present and they were all acting like kids themselves - Harry was watching them jumping onto all the living room furniture trying to grab it. Then the very last sequence of events - Voldemort's attack. He screamed one last time as the delicate link binding him to the ball was broken as the curse hit him.  
  
He came back to himself with a jolt, rubbing his forehead like there was something he could do to stop it. Intellectually, however, he knew that the pain was purely mental, a teenager's old memory of a baby's terrible pain.  
"Hi Daddy Moony," he said cheerfully, looking up at the werewolf who he'd thought of as a father. A dreamy, distant look came over Remus's face.  
"I wondered if you'd remember that now. It brings back so many memories for me."  
"What? You didn't think I'd remember Daddy Prongs, Daddy Padfoot and Daddy Moony?"  
"Lily always did say that you had far too many parents for your own good and would end up a spoilt brat. She was wrong, you the sweetest baby I've ever seen, completely unspoilable, even for Sirius. I also recall that you were very intelligent - you refused to let Wormtail be anything more than Uncle Peter."  
"Yeah, I noticed that."  
"Did you see your first birthday party? You loved that birthday, watching your dignified parents leaping all over the room trying to catch your present. It was Sirius that let it get away, it always was him."  
"As if any of you were ever dignified, but of course I picked up on that."  
"Padfoot's motorbike?"  
"Yup."  
"Lily got so mad at him for taking you flying on it that morning. She was very concerned about your safety when you were that small and it didn't really help when James made it up to you that afternoon by taking you up on his broom, a Nimbus 1500. You loved every minute of it, so James thought it was well worthwhile, even if he was yelled at for a good ten minutes afterwards."  
"Say, you'd better be going down to dinner."  
"Aren't you coming?"  
"I'm not really hungry."  
"But you're always hungry when you come back from the Dursleys! I know, you just want time alone, don't you? Without any of us busybodies butting in on you."  
"I don't mind you, honest, its just. . . Well, yeah, you're right Daddy Moony."  
"I'll ask the house elves to send something up for you, and make your apologies to the others."  
"Thanks," Harry replied, rather surprised at how easily he was getting away with this.  
"Now, just promise me that you will eat and not do anything stupid this evening."  
"Like what?"  
"I'm not even going to try to guess what you might come up with. Just don't."  
"Okay, okay, I promise. Um, was it you that sorted the room for me?"  
"A bit of it. Severus did practically everything, I was in the way a lot of the time. I just advised on which books you might want. I asked him how he knew what to do, but he just ignored me. I'm still not sure if he was just busy or refusing to answer. He was very worried that you wouldn't like it. You do, don't you?"  
"Like it? Its brilliant!"  
"Great. I'll be going for now, just remember that I'll always be here if you need me."  
"You don't mind about . . . it?"  
"Of course not! Alba was one of my best friends at school, and now we've grown up a bit - well, a lot really - I'm kind of starting to like Severus as well."  
"Do you think Daddy Padfoot would have?" Harry asked, slipping back into the baby form of address that seemed so natural to him in his nervousness. Remus looked him straight in the eye as he answered earnestly,  
"Harry, Sirius loved you like a son because you were you. At first, yes it was all for James but it didn't take long for him to start acting as though all of your achievements were entirely due to him. I've never seen him so proud, and that's the complete truth. Okay, so he might have sulked for a bit, but it wouldn't have taken long before he was back just as before. He used to treat Alba like a princess, like a doting brother would a sister. I wouldn't worry about him at all and James obviously knew your parentage, and you've just seen the truth of his feelings for you."  
  
Harry nodded wordlessly, a lump in his throat. When Remus had gone, he flung himself down on the bed and cried out all of his shock, worry and guilt about everything that had happened in the past few months. When he woke the next morning, it would be to a completely new start.  
  
There was a crack and a large owl appeared in the room carrying a package. Harry thanked the bird, which waited patiently while he took the package and the letter that went with it. He opened the letter first.  
  
Harry, Since I doubt Dumbledore left you time to pack, these are robes and nightwear for you. Don't worry, none of it is mine, in case you couldn't tell. I will see you tomorrow.  
Severus  
  
Harry smiled and turned to the parcel. This revealed a set of Chudley Cannons pajamas and deep blue robes. Since the owl seemed to expect a reply of some sort, Harry grabbed some parchment from his desk and scribbled,  
  
Thanks Father, you were right. See you tomorrow then.  
  
He attached this to the owl's leg and let it out of the window. Then he changed into his new pajamas, the first new ones he'd ever owned. Then, though it was still very early, Harry turned out the lights and was soon asleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I've given Harry a new identity later in this chapter, and I've gone straight into calling him by his new name. This is so he isn't one thing half the time and another the rest. Hopefully it will avoid confusion.  
  
He woke the next morning knowing instinctively that something had changed. Scanning himself anxiously in the mirror however, he could see nothing new. Well, at least his hair was still relatively clean and his skin was still lightly tanned from the long hours he'd spent gardening in the sun.  
  
It was eight o'clock, a lie in for him, so he dressed and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Remus, Dumbledore and Buzz were sitting at the staff table, but they were the only ones since even the staff tended to leave over the summer holidays.  
"Morning Gramps," he said brightly, coming up behind his great grandfather. Buzz grinned incorrigibly at him and Remus stifled a smile. Unlike the younger pair, he was still too much in awe of the headmaster to tease him.  
"Sit down Harry, you're cheerful this morning. Nice robes, by the way."  
"Father sent them for me. He reckoned I wouldn't have had any time to pack and that I might not want to stay in the clothes I was wearing before or put on school uniform."  
"That was quick Harry," Remus observed, looking at him keenly. "I thought you didn't know what you were going to call him. You seemed uncomfortable enough about when I was talking to you in your room last night."  
"Well, I didn't then, so I was telling the truth. It was the Memoranbrall. I don't know why, but it seems perfectly natural now for me to call him that. Mum seemed determined that I'd know the identities of my four fathers and two mothers even when I was very small. Whenever she showed me a picture of Professor Snape, she always said 'that's father'." "Who were the other three?" Buzz asked curiously. "Daddy Prongs, Daddy Moony and Daddy Padfoot."  
"Who?"  
  
Tonks stared at him in total incomprehension. Gosh, Harry thought, she must have been deaf to everything at Grimmauld Place - Sirius and Remus had practically always called each other by their Marauder nicknames; perhaps as a memory of the happy times they'd had before Wormtail turned. "James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. I was raised by the Marauders as a whole." "Wasn't Pettigrew a Marauder too?" "Wormtail was never more than Uncle Peter. I didn't like him at all." "The Memoranbrall did help then?" Dumbledore asked anxiously, looking somewhat apprehensive, as though he wasn't sure just what had come up, which, Harry realised, he probably wasn't. "Oh yes, it was brilliant. I never knew just how much I'd missed having memories of my parents before."  
"I asked Severus to come here at ten o'clock, directly to my office. I assume you'll want to be there?"  
"Well. . ."  
"Don't be shy Harry, he's been just as nervous about meeting you again."  
"Okay then Gramps, if you think I ought to be there, I'll come up ready."  
"Fine, but how many times do I have to tell you brats that I am Granddad or Grandfather but never Gramps?"  
"Sorry Gramps, we do try our hardest, really we do," Buzz assured him earnestly. Dumbledore groaned theatrically.  
  
Harry grinned, successfully distracted from the event to come, and applied himself to his breakfast. After almost a month of living on a single slice of bread a day and a few sweets from his friends, he was really hungry now. After they'd all finished, he went up to Remus' office - since he was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, he'd already taken possession of it once again. They spent a very pleasant time together, with Harry listening avidly to the older man's stories and reminiscences of his time as a Marauder at Hogwarts and many of their more impressive escapades.  
  
Ten o'clock came around all too soon for Harry. He went nervously into the office at five to, Remus having kept an eye on the time for him and sent him up, and perched uncomfortably on the edge of the chair. He avoided eye contact or conversation with Dumbledore, sitting opposite him, behind the large desk.  
  
The fire flared green a few moments later and a man stepped out into the room. Harry gasped, but as quietly as he could. It was Severus Snape, all right, but he looked so different from the Potions master he'd known for the past five years! His usually greasy hair was clean and hung in loose waves down the sides of his cleanly scrubbed face. Instead of his customary black robes, he was wearing emerald - Slytherin - green and, even more surprisingly to Harry, he was smiling nervously. Nervously? Since when was Snape ever nervous?  
  
"You look different already, Harry," Severus observed at last, Harry having kept silent out of a desire not to be the first to speak - Snape wasn't the only one with nerves. He didn't have a clue how to act in front of one of his worst, no, former worst enemies in this sort of situation.  
"So do you, Father."  
"Let's sat that I was encouraged to clean up, but you're calling me that already? They only told you yesterday, didn't they?"  
"Gramps gave me my Memoranbrall yesterday evening. Mum called you Father all the time. I think she missed having you around, and your portrait had pride of place."  
"Why don't you sit down, Severus, and we can discuss this. You do know that the illusion charms on Harry would be near on impossible to replace? This means that he must take on a new identity; one would assume that you simply acknowledge him. By the end of the summer, his appearance will be completely different."  
"You expect him to learn an entirely new role in just a month? You must be mad! And how are you going to explain Potter's disappearance? The 'Boy Who Lived' can't just vanish, the wizarding world would be in an uproar."  
"Harry is going to write to his friends."  
"I'm allowed to now, then?" Harry asked, feeling a bit irritated at not even being asked his opinion about it. Severus glanced at him sympathetically.  
"Yes, Harry, just once, mind you. You must tell them that you are leaving Hogwarts to get extra training and you won't be able to owl them after that in case you reveal your location. All of which is perfectly true, of course. Nymphadora will let herself be seen periodically, at a distance, as Harry Potter."  
"I won't be able to tell Ron and Hermione about anything? Even next term?"  
"I'm afraid not Harry."  
"And what do we call him? The sixth years are hardly stupid Albus, the disappearance of Harry Potter and appearance of Harry Snape is hardly likely to pass without notice."  
"Alba suggested Marcus, after her brother. That would mean, in pureblood tradition, Marcus Severus Godric Salazar Snape. How does that sound to you?"  
"Marc? I like it. I saw Uncle Marc in the Memoranbrall a few times, and he was really nice."  
  
Severus looked more doubtful, but he nodded.  
"If you like it, that's what it will be. It's a good enough pureblood name not to attract notice," he agreed readily after hearing Harry's consent. "And Albus? Altair says yes about next term."  
"Excellent. Do you two want to go then? We can sort out anything else later."  
"Can I just say goodbye to Moony and Buzz first, please? I won't be seeing them for a while, probably," Marc said, knowing that they were both down in Remus's office and that Buzz would never forgive him if he let this opportunity slide.  
"Who?" Severus asked sharply, looking stricken.  
"Remus and Tonks."  
"Oh," he said somewhat dully," let's go down then. I assume they're in Lupin's office."  
"Use the fire," Dumbledore offered. "I believe you'll find them in Remus' study, as you said. You first, Marc. You do prefer Marc, don't you?"  
"Yes Gramps," Marc said, smiling shakily. "Thanks."  
  
Marc stepped into the fire and found himself being sucked through to the office.  
"He's coming," Marc told them eagerly. "I thought you'd want to see him when he isn't being a slimy git. I don't think you're likely to get another chance."  
"Marcus," Severus said warningly, emerging from the fireplace behind his son, although he didn't sound serious.  
"Sorry Father, but you are when you're teaching, especially with me."  
"You do look quite nice like that," Tonks conceded, grinning. "Hello Uncle Sev."  
  
Marc, Remus and Tonks burst into laughter as Severus' face turned an interesting shade of magenta. He glared at them all, embarrassed at being caught out.  
"If you were still at school, Nymphadora Tonks," he threatened. "As for you Marcus. . ."  
"Marcus?" Remus asked.  
"My new name," Marc explained. "But I prefer Marc. I can't be Harry Potter once I've finished changing, so we came up with a new name. Marc was what Mum wanted, after my uncle, but I can't remember the rest of it."  
"Marcus Severus Godric Salazar Snape." his father told him. "And remember that. As a point, Nymphadora. . ."  
"Don't call me that!" she interrupted him, wincing at the sound of her full name.  
"Whatever. Why uncle?"  
"Because you are, Uncle Sev," Tonks said innocently. "You're my cousin's dad."  
"Your cousin?"  
"Didn't he tell you?" she continued, loving every moment of his confusion. "How stupid of him. My father was a Squib, Ted Tonks, formerly known as Edward Dumbledore. He had two younger siblings, both wizards, Marcus and Alba Dumbledore. He's still alive, you know, if you want to check."  
"That's why Marc's started calling you Buzz?"  
"Yup."  
"Well, you'd better say goodbye, Marc. We need to get home, really."  
"Ah Severus," Remus began. "I take it Harry, sorry, Marc is going to have um a few surprises when he gets back. Ones he won't have guessed."  
"How did you. . . ? Yes. You'll see in September, now that you're back as a teacher."  
"I see. Well, goodbye Harry. I imagine the next time I see you, you'll be Marc Snape fully. Remember what I said last night, and I. . . ah . . . hope you make some new friends."  
"Thanks Daddy Moony, I'll miss you."  
"I dunno when I'll next see you cous, but may I expect a lively term ahead?"  
"Oh yes," Marc said, smirking wickedly. "Harry Potter had far more responsibility than Marc Snape, and seeing the Marauders in action in my Memoranbrall has inspired me. I intend to make my foster fathers proud."  
"Great! You'll probably be seeing quite a lot of me next term then, I wouldn't want to miss out on any of the fun."  
"That is, if the school's still standing," Remus said with a groan. "I can guess what he saw."  
"You can have my room whenever you want," Marc told her. "You know the password. I'll see you, then."  
"Wotcher cous, have fun."  
  
Marc grinned at her and flooed back up to the Headmaster's study, followed by his father.  
"Can't you control your great grandchildren?" Severus moaned. Dumbledore looked faintly amused and very, very curious at what they'd done.  
"What have they been up to this time? It's in the genes, you know, I can't help it."  
"That brat got me downstairs so the other one could start calling me names."  
"She was just being polite within the family, Father. Uncle Sev sounds nice, doesn't it Gramps?"  
"Nicer than Gramps, at any rate. Off you go now, and give Altair my love."  
  
Severus nodded and stepped into the fire.  
"Snape Estate!" he called and vanished. Marc took one last look around him and followed. Hall 


	5. Chapter 5

They came out next to a fire which stood alone in the middle of a huge, empty field. Marc looked around bemusedly. He couldn't see that they were near any building, so where were they? "Uh, is this the right place?" he asked. "Yes," replied Severus absently, his eyes scanning the sky. "In my profession, it's safer not to have Floo access directly into the house. There, good, we've been spotted. It's about a five-minute walk back to the house. And Harry. . . Marc. . . if things are going too fast, please just say. I'd be worried if this wasn't odd for youHall ."  
"Yes Father."  
  
Marc followed his gaze and saw three circling birds. As he watched, one peeled off from the group and headed off into the distance, the other two keeping pace above them.  
  
They walked in silence for a while, neither knowing how, or indeed particularly wishing to start conversation. When they were almost at the house, a huge, stately manor that appeared just as they walked over the brow of a hill, the door opened and a woman stood there, watching them, a boy next to her. Both had white blond hair and were waving at the newcomers. Severus waved back with a dry smile.  
"Is that. . . I mean. . .are they..."  
"Yes I am married, if that's what you're trying to ask. Students shouldn't expect to know every detail of their teachers' home lives, mine in particular. Her name is Altair, and the boy is called Galahad. He must have gone to warn her."  
"He's an Animagus, some sort of bird, right?"  
"Yes. You'll become one this summer as well. We have wards up so that you can use magic out of school without the ministry breathing down your neck. Remember, none of them know you were Potter, just that you're my son and that you've only just found out, due to the illusion charms placed upon you in your infancy. They have instructions not to pry, and I will deal with them personally if they do, understood?"  
"Yes sir."  
  
Marc stared as the other two birds dove towards the ground at startling speeds and morphed into humans as they landed. This pair, a boy and a girl, were older than Galahad, but younger than he was. Both had Severus' night black hair. Marc wasn't totally sure, but he thought they looked similar enough and close enough in age, to be twins.  
  
"Perry and Merlyn," Severus murmured by way of introduction as they came up to the steps. He continued aloud. "This is it Marc, home. May I introduce you to Altair."  
"Welcome home."  
"Peregrine and Merlyn are fourteen and Galahad is eleven. This is Marcus, he's sixteen."  
"Pleased to meet you," Marc said, looking at them nervously. They stared back.  
  
"Come in, you lot," Altair said with a smile, breaking off their silent confrontation and evaluation of each other. "Did the clothes fit you, Marcus?"  
"Yes, thank you, they're great," Marc replied gratefully, realising quickly that Severus hadn't been the mastermind behind that very practical idea.  
"Excellent, you won't believe how bad Sev is at estimating sizes. That's why I do all the shopping. Now, tell me what colours you like and I'll order some for you."  
  
"Uh, this blue's nice," Marc said, feeling rather helpless. He was getting sympathetic looks from the others in the family, who had no doubt all been under fire themselves some time in the past. Severus in particular looked very understanding, but then, if he always wore black, Marc could understand why - Altair would hardly want him swooping around as he did at school, a bit like an overgrown bat. He wasn't at all surprised when she frowned at him and said, sternly,  
"You are not having a single colour wardrobe. The number of times I've had this argument. . ."  
  
"Okay," Marc said hastily, thinking desperately. "How's green? Maroon?"  
"Great. Why don't you kids go upstairs and show Marcus his bedroom?"  
"OK Mum," the older boy, Peregrine, said. "This way Marcus, or is it Marc?"  
"Marc, please."  
"Cool, I'll remember. I'm Perry, by the way. Merlyn's just Merlyn, and if you come up with a decent nickname for Galahad, he'll be eternally in your debt. Best we've managed is Gad, which just sounds dumb. Gal's too girly, of course. Here we go, this is your place."  
  
Marc pushed open the indicated door and went in. The others followed him curiously, not having been involved in the decorating stage themselves. The room greatly resembled his new Hogwarts room; it was just bigger. On his bed was a sleek, silver broomstick. Marc gasped, as he looked it over with a practiced eye. There was only one broom that it could be.  
"A Laser! Wow!"  
"Dad said you played Quidditch, so we recommended this broom. It's the same one that we've all got." Merlyn explained. "What position do you normally play?"  
"Seeker," Marc replied, somewhat bewildered at such generosity. The Laser was supposed to be the same amount above the Firebolt in standard as the Firebolt was above the old Nimbus 2001 and very, very expensive.  
"That's good, none of us do. There aren't enough of us to play proper games, but we still train and play mini matches, you know, with limited balls. Perry and I like being Beaters best, and we're just starting to teach Galahad to play Keeper. He wasn't allowed a proper broom until he turned eleven, just a baby broom that wouldn't go more than a metre above the ground. Are you good?"  
  
Marc smirked at them, then stopped as he realized how much like his father he probably looked.  
"I'm not bad. It's okay for us to play here then? I wouldn't have thought. . ."  
"Oh," Perry said, catching on. "You're worried about Muggles. We've got a pitch round the back, and its charmed to stop the balls escaping. The whole estate has Muggle-repelling charms on it, always has. Say, are you at Hogwarts?"  
  
What on earth had brought that question on? Marc wasn't even sure that he was allowed to answer it.  
"You can tell them if you want, Marc," said Severus, putting his head around the door. "We've set up charms, something like the Fidelius, so that they couldn't tell anyone out of the family anything you've said about your previous life."  
"Okay then, yeah, I'm at Hogwarts. I'm just about to start my sixth year."  
"We're coming next year. Mum's taught us at home herself until now."  
"And you're all Animagi?"  
"Yeah, even Galahad. He's only just learned. I don't know why, but we're all different types of falcon. Dad's keen on us learning, so I guess you will too."  
"Is there a way of telling what I'd be?"  
"Yes, but Perry can't do it," Galahad said impishly. His brother glared at him.  
"Neither can you, brat, so shut up about it. You'd better, Merlyn, before I teach him a lesson he won't forget in a hurry."  
  
Merlyn smiled indulgently at them, pulled out her wand and focussed hard on Marc. Then she frowned.  
"I'm sorry, Marc, but I can't seem to get a clear reading. I'm seeing two, maybe three, different animals. I guess you'll have to wait until you learn. Um, if you don't mind me asking, what's it like at Hogwarts?"  
  
Marc realised something, fascinated.  
"Haven't you ever been to school before? Not even primary school?" They shook their heads.  
"We've seen other kids in Diagon Alley a few times, but not to talk to. Do you know what Dad does, other than his usual job?"  
"Yes."  
"He's afraid that people from either side could use us as hostages. It also means that we don't have to become Death Eaters, which can only be a good thing. The only person that knows about us, I think, is Mr Dumbledore."  
"Not anymore. Remus Lupin guessed today, but he won't tell anyone. Maybe some of the other staff know. Professor McGonagall handles admissions and timetabling, so she probably does. Say, have you ever seen Father in his 'greasy haired Potions git' mood?" Marc asked. Then he followed Perry's worried gaze and looked at the door. Severus was looking in disapprovingly.  
"Sorry," Marc said quickly. "But it's true, even if it is just an act. I take it they've never seen you in action before."  
"No, and no doubt they'll find it hilarious when they do."  
"It's probably a good idea that I'm warning them. It wouldn't do any good if they burst out laughing the first time they saw it, and you do act really differently when you're at the school."  
"I know. While we're on the subject of school, I heard your earlier comments to Nymphadora, and I would take it kindly if you do not reform the Marauders out of the Snape children. I know perfectly well that that was what you've been planning, Marcus, and it's not going to happen. Your word as wizard on it."  
"Yes Father, my word as a wizard that I will not reform the Marauders out of the Snapes."  
"Thank you."  
  
He left, apparently satisfied. Marc waited a moment before speaking again.  
"I think he said we can use magic out of school, right?"  
"Yes," Merlyn said eagerly. "But who are the Marauders and why doesn't he like them?"  
"Just a moment," Marc said, erecting some anti-listening wards around the room just in case Severus came back. "The Marauders were Father's worst enemies in school, and my foster fathers too. They were renowned for their pranks. Would you be interested? I happen to know that the resident jokers have just left, so there's definitely a vacancy just waiting to be filled."  
  
"Dad said we couldn't be Marauders," Perry said doubtfully, looking automatically at the door.  
"Yes," Marc agreed, his eyes gleaming. "But he said nothing at all about forming an entirely new group, did he?"  
"That's right," Merlyn agreed, looking positively demonic. "Count me in."  
"And us," Perry said, slightly more reluctantly. He seemed to feel he had a position of responsibility to maintain.  
"Great. Now, why don't you let me get settled for a while? Just remember, not a word to Father."  
  
Marc's three younger half-siblings smirked and left, leaving him alone once again. 


	6. Chapter 6

'Phew!' Marc thought. That was something he really hadn't expected to find, despite Remus' none-too-subtle hints. Who would have thought that Snape would have kids? Still, they seemed nice enough, and they certainly had their priorities right - Quidditch and pranks. It was going to be a very interesting summer. Marc only hoped that they'd accept him once they got to know him better - they were obviously close and hadn't had very much contact with other kids at all.  
  
As he often did when he was nervous, Marc reached up to feel James Potter's old invisibility cloak folded in its accustomed place up his sleeve. The thought of his late father had always comforted him and, though he now knew that his real dad was Severus Snape, old habits die hard.  
  
Marc was left alone for a while after they left, presumably so that he could settle in to his new room. This he did, spending his time exploring it and creating a secret compartment inside his bedpost, in which he secreted the precious cloak and the Marauders' Map. Maybe he was starting late as a prankster, but there would be people left to carry on for him in two years time.  
  
Altair came in a few hours later,  
"Settling in okay?" she asked with a smile,  
"Yes thank you," Marc replied, feeling more than a little bit awkward around her, his stepmother, really.  
"Do you want to talk for a bit? I seriously doubt that you've had time to go over this with anyone at all - I know what Albus and the rest of them can be like."  
"Well. . ."  
"Don't worry, we won't be interrupted by anyone. The kids are in Perry's room, talking about you actually, and Sev's down in his lab. He'll be out of the way for a good while yet."  
"Okay then," Marc agreed, touched by her concern for him.  
  
Altair took a deep breath and began, sitting down next to Marc on the edge of the bed.  
"I'd better introduce myself properly first. I'm Altair, Lucius Malfoy's supposedly dead and unlamented sister. Do you know him?"  
  
Marc thought. Did thwarting his plan to encourage Voldemort's return via a small, black book count?  
  
"Not well," he said at last, somewhat cautiously. "I know his son better - he's in my year at Hogwarts."  
  
She seemed satisfied with this and continued,  
"Ah, then you know their attitudes - load of rubbish in my opinion. I was sent to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts, mostly to keep me out of Lucius' way, so hardly anyone knew that I existed in the first place. I wasn't heavily encouraged to go dark - all of my parents' attention went to Lucius. When I first met Severus, it was at a Potion Masters' convention in Vienna; I must have been about nineteen at the time and he was a few years older. At the time, he was very firmly attached to Alba Dumbledore, a soul bond I think... Was she your mother?"  
  
"Yes," said Marc quietly. Yet another person who knew his mother - the wizarding world seemed full of undisclosed secrets.  
  
"I thought so - you have her eyes you know. They broke up a month or so later. I think I know the real reason now... Sev was devastated, to put it lightly. I moved in to make sure he didn't kill himself or destroy the house or do something similarly melodramatic. We fell in love, married and the twins came along. I'd feigned my own death soon after graduation, just to avoid my beloved family.  
  
'And she says that Snape is melodramatic' Marc thought with a snigger.  
  
We detested each other with a passion. I've lived here ever since and only a few people know that I'm still alive - Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall and now Remus Lupin."  
  
Marc studied her thoughtfully for a few seconds before he started to tell his own life story.  
"Do you know who I am, oh Merlin this is confusing! Do you know who I was, rather?"  
"No. Sev decided it would be your choice whether you told me or not. It is safe if you want to; we made sure of that."  
  
"Okay," Marc said, grinning. "See if you can guess. Most of this came from my Memoranbrall, so don't be too surprised. I was born on the 31st July 1980. My mother kept me herself for about a month, somewhere in the middle of nowhere: I don't know the exact location. She spent the time putting the strongest illusion charms that she could find on me - I absolutely hated that; it itched. Then she gave me to her best friend to raise. My foster mother used to joke that I had too many parents, and she did have a point: two mums and four dads, if you can believe that! It was pretty idyllic until my foster parents were killed and one of my other honorary dads was sent to Azkaban. He was innocent, but he's dead now too.  
  
"My supposed aunt and uncle brought me up, somewhat reluctantly. To say that they hated wizards would be the understatement of the century, but I'd rather forget all that - I'll never have to go there again. I was brought to Hogwarts when I was eleven, after a bit of a struggle with my guardians. Um. . . have you ever seen Father teach my year's Potions class? I'm going into sixth year."  
  
"Yes, I think so. I've watched most classes - its hilarious watching Sev terrorize all of you; he's such a gentle soul normally."  
  
Marc almost choked on that one.  
"Well, I'm the kid that he bullied even more than Neville Longbottom."  
"Now I know you, Harry Potter," Altair said triumphantly, sounding very surprised. "This is a turn of events isn't it? Sev's always said he hated you."  
"Tell me about it," Marc said gloomily. "The ugly, greasy haired git of a Potions professor turns out to 1. Like me. 2. Be my father. 3. Be married and 4. Have other kids. It was a surprise to say the least. I think I've come to terms with it now; the Memoranbrall helped a lot."  
"It explains an awful lot too. Sev was dumbstruck when he was told who you were. He looked as though one of his students had just managed to successfully raid his Potions store."  
  
Marc snickered.  
"Been there, done that, just don't tell him I admitted it. He's been trying to land the blame on me for about three years now. He must have felt stupid about me, I suppose, since it was because of who my dad was that he bullied me."  
"He spent five years bullying you because of a schoolboy feud and he had no idea? How like him. Hang on, you said you had a lot of parents, who are they?"  
  
"Well, Father and Mother - Severus Snape and Alba Dumbledore. Then my foster parents were Lily and James Potter. Lastly, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were my dad's best friends and they acted like honorary godfathers. And . . . and I suppose you . . .if you'll have me, that is."  
  
Marc looked at her shyly; she looked flattered.  
"Of course I will. There, feeling better about it all now?"  
"Yes," Marc said, sounding surprised.  
"Is there anything you particularly want to do now?"  
"Do you have a library?"  
"Of course, this is a pureblood household. We have everything."  
"With Quidditch books?"  
"Not my area of expertise, but yes, I should think so. Down the front stairs, first door on the right. I'm sure you'll recognize it if you see it."  
"Thanks. . . Mum," Marc said impishly, bounding out of the door. There'd been a passing mention of a technique in one of his books ad he was very keen to find out more. It sounded like it was one that would set people staring when he got back to school. 


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry this is so late, but as I might have said in the last chapter, I was away for over a week on German exchange, and then we've been visiting relatives and stuff. Anyway, I've not made you wait as much as three weeks, so don't complain too much. The next chapter ought to come pretty soon after this one, maybe even before the next Revelations and Recovery one. If you like Snape, you should check that one out, and I've done a finished time travel one as well. Well, now its finally here, enjoy, then review!  
  
The door he came to was a large, solid, wooden creation, carved intricately with snakes. He pushed it cautiously open to discover a room that would double up easily as a library and study, and no doubt did. It was easily as big as the Hogwarts library - counted itself as one of the largest in Britain - and light steamed in to illuminate the books through huge windows set high in the walls. At the end furthest away from Marc was a huge stained glass window, possibly of a young Salazar Slytherin, although that was a wide guess since Marc was only going on the statue he'd seen in the Chamber of Secrets. Huge rows of bookshelves were arranged in long, towering rows, reaching high up into the roof, although how one was expected to take books from the higher shelves, Marc couldn't imagine. There were a number of small study tables in small openings between the shelves, and a large desk near the door.  
  
There was a sudden loud crack and Marc spun around, instantly on guard with his wand in his hand.  
  
"Is yous Master's son?" the house elf asked, wide eyes looking trustingly up at him. She - hard to tell if the creature was male or female, but Marc made a guess - was wearing the customary pillowcase, but it was a brilliant white and well looked after, and was embroidered with silver snakes - quite a stunning outfit, all in all, despite the simple cut.  
  
"Yes, I'm uh Marcus."  
  
"Can Tiddy be helping you, Master Marcus?"  
  
"Do you know where I can find books on the Silvanian Quidditch technique?" Marc asked, hoping that Tiddy would be able to tell him, since he had no idea as to where to begin looking.  
  
"You waits here, Master Marc! Tiddy will find it for you!"  
  
Marc sat down at the desk, while the house elf ran frantically between the shelves. Like so many other things in the library, it was ancient and again, it was carved with the customary snakes. He was fairly sure he could make an educated guess as to the crest of the House of Snape. Tiddy was back within moments clutching three large books to her chest.  
  
"Theses is all I could find, Master Marcus," she said anxiously.  
  
"I'm sure this will be plenty, Tiddy. Thank you."  
  
"Yous is welcomes, Master Marcus."  
  
Marc looked at the books, and selected one bluntly titled 'Silvanian Flying'. He read it cover to cover, then sat back confidently. Boy was Severus going to get a surprise tomorrow a heart attack perhaps. No, that wasn't fair - his nerves were no doubt excellent considering his undercover role working for the Order of the Phoenix. For a technique that supposedly took at least twenty years to learn, it sounded surprisingly easy. Marc stretched, then went on to look at his next choice. If only Hermione could see him now. . .  
  
The door opened around two hours later and Severus looked in.  
  
"This is the last place I'd expect to find you. What are you doing?"  
  
"Studying, Father," Marc said innocently. "I want my House to do well when I get back to Hogwarts."  
  
"I'd have thought you'd be out flying on a day like this."  
  
"Oh no, I couldn't waste such a brilliant broom on ordinary moves, so I've been researching some new ones."  
  
"You like the broom, then? I was told its good, but I'm a bit behind on the latest technology."  
  
"It's the best there is, far better than even a Firebolt, according to the experts."  
  
"If you're in Slytherin, we must ensure you perform to the best of your ability."  
  
"But what if I'm not? I might be put in Hufflepuff this time, it was almost Slytherin last."  
  
Severus looked shocked, as though the idea had never occurred to him. Marc grinned at his discomfort.  
  
"Sorry, but even if Gramps doesn't want me to go back into Gryffindor, there are other houses. Mum was in Ravenclaw, wasn't she? I could just as easily follow her."  
  
"Hmm, especially if you carry on like this, although I never would have thought it possible before. She told me once that in the end it came down to personal choice between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, which house she ended up in. Still, the amount of time she spent with Lily, you'd never have guessed she chose Ravenclaw. Which player are you modelling yourself on now?"  
  
"Guy named Silvanus," Marc said blandly. "Italian, I think." Severus went white.  
  
"I forbid you from trying out any of those moves!"  
  
"Aw please. You could rig up that charm they have at Hogwarts now, which catches you before you hit the ground. I want to see Mum's face. . ."  
  
"Mum?"  
  
"We had a talk before I came down here, and she offered. Now I've had my Memoranbrall, I'm perfectly happy with the idea of multiple parents. I wasn't sure whether we'd be openly stating my birth mother's identity, or whether you were hoping to pass me off as Altair's."  
  
"Whichever you prefer, although I wouldn't broadcast Alba Dumbledore's name around, she isn't the most popular person in Death Eater circles."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"I was sent to tell you that its lunchtime. Do you want to keep the books?"  
  
"No thanks, I've pretty much memorized them now, and Tiddy would no doubt be overjoyed if I asked her to find them for me again if I need them."  
  
"Come on then, let's go. So, you've met Tiddy?"  
  
"Yes, she appeared when I came in here. Good thing too, I didn't know where to start."  
  
"We have three house elves attached to the family: one cooks, one cleans and Tiddy helps in a more general capacity. I'll warn you, don't leave food on your plate unless you want to hear it from Mufy. He's always been obsessed with not wasting. The other elf is Doily, though she's much shyer than the other two and you probably won't be seeing much of her." 


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: here you go, the next chapter. Sorry it wasn't out sooner - I meant it to be - but I didn't realize how much homework I had. What is it about holidays that makes teachers think 'coursework', 'tests', 'revision', 'exams', 'long impossible exercises'? I guess that you can work out what my holiday was like. Now, I'm going to borrow an idea from my beta, kestral-girl, and recommend a story, something I'll do every chapter (if I remember). In return, I want your recommendations when you review. This time's story: 'SOLSTICE'. You can find it easily on my favourite stories list.  
  
They had now arrived outside another grand door, which Severus pushed open - either the door was charmed or very well engineered because, despite its size, it moved easily and without a sound. Marc followed him in to see a small, homey dining room containing a single, circular table where the rest of the family was (yes, I know that this grammar is slightly odd, but it is correct...blame Shakespeare) already sitting. Marc grinned: the rest of the family, he'd never been able to think that before: the Dursleys certainly didn't count as family in his books with the way they'd treated him...plus there was that they weren't actually related to him...  
  
"This is only the family dining room," his father said, looking slightly embarrassed. Was Marc meant to be surprised? The grand door had certainly suggested a significantly larger room . . . "We have a much larger formal one for entertaining guests, social functions and suchlike, not that there have been many of those in the last few years."  
  
"That hideous room," Altair sniffed dismissively. "It's gloomy, uncomfortable and far too large for our purposes - hardly suitable for a family meal. Sit down, both of you, before your food gets cold."  
  
Marc slid into one of the empty seats and stared at the plate in front of him: crispy-skinned chicken, golden potatoes, a mound of peas, rashers of bacon . . .  
  
"Is this all for me?" he checked, just to make sure that it wasn't a plate that he was supposed to serve himself from. Severus frowned,  
  
"Of course, you can have more if you want, naturally, but you should clear your plate first."  
  
He needed no further urging. After over two weeks of living on a single slice of toast a day, this was a feast for the teen. The two adults looked at each other, slightly taken aback by his comment, but the house elf that came bustling in was overjoyed at the rate at which he was devouring his meal.  
  
"You likes it, young master?" he queried eagerly. "You wants more? Mufy can easily get . . ."  
  
"Uh, no, thank you, I'm full."  
  
"You are Master Severus' son, yes? Tiddy is telling me about you. I'm Mufy, young master, at your service," the house elf told him, bowing deeply.  
  
"Pleased to meet you," Marc said awkwardly. "I'm Ha- Marcus."  
  
"That is good, Master Marcus. Mufy will remember. Is there anythings Mufy can be getting you? More chicken? Peas? Carrots?"  
  
Marc hid a grin; this elf was nothing if not persistent.  
  
"No thank you Mufy, I'm fine. It was delicious, though."  
  
"Thank you Master Marcus. Mufy is glad you is liking his humble cooking."  
  
"Come on Mufy," Severus said, smiling, a thing that would have left hoards of Hogwarts students fainting, had they witnessed this event. Marc wasn't affected quite so drastically; there had been so many changes to his previous view of the man that he wasn't entirely sure what to expect now. "You're a genius with food, we all know it."  
  
"Master is kind," Mufy said, politely but firmly," but Mufy is not very good. Mufy is working very hard to learn, though. Master Marcus has a healthy appetite, but Master Peregrine! You have left your chicken! It is waste! Waste! Mufy is bad bad cook! Bad Mufy! Bad Mufy!"  
  
Mufy began to bang his head hard against the cooker. Galahad, who was nearest, grabbed the back of his pillowcase with a practiced hand and held him back, whilst Altair looked meaningfully at Perry.  
  
"I haven't left it Mufy, I just it slowly. See, I'm eating it now."  
  
"Mufy is not a bad cook?"  
  
"No, you're great," Merlyn assured him hastily, looking at her own clean plate. "Do you have any dessert?"  
  
"Of course Master Merlyn," the house elf replied, bouncing up again happily. "Mufy is just fetching it now!"  
  
He bustled out, Perry completely forgotten in this new excitement, and Merlyn smirked.  
  
"That," she said smugly, "is how to deal with Mufy. Watch and learn people, genius at work."  
  
"You weren't so clever when he threw your scrambled eggs in your face this morning 'cos you cheeked him!" Perry said indignantly, flushing in a decidedly un-Severus like manner. Merlyn glared at him. "Anyway, I don't need you to solve all my problems for me, I'm fine on my own!"  
  
"That's lucky," Altair said sharply. "Because if I hear even another hint of a squabble starting, I'll be sending you both straight to bed."  
  
"Sorry Mum," Perry said, glancing anxiously sideways at their father, normally the harsher disciplinarian, who was looking stern. "I didn't mean to bring it up, but . . ."  
  
"I'm going to request that the both of you take a long walk this afternoon and sort it out," Severus said firmly. The look on his face mad it clear that this was not optional. "I shall put the cuffs on you as a little encouragement. You've been told many times before not to bicker at the table. Galahad may remain here and this afternoon, we are going to discuss Marcus' lessons for the summer."  
  
"But sir," Marc protested, horrified at the very thought. "It's the summer holidays, and I've done all of my assignments. Well, all except the Potions one . . ."  
  
"Why am I not surprised that it appears to be the one subject you've opted to neglect?"  
  
"Because you set us the longest and most difficult essays you can dream up, something that you are all too accomplished at for the common good."  
  
"You will naturally be doing some Potions coaching - I can't have you embarrassing me - but you will need to learn a lot about pureblood society before you return to school, especially since you will no doubt be under close scrutiny from other young purebloods like Draco Malfoy."  
  
Marc sighed, watching as the other three children devoured large slices of chocolate cake, the twins still scowling. It looked delicious, but already felt that he'd eaten too much. Just when he thought he was going to have a good summer, he was landed with this.  
  
Perry and Merlyn, finished now, stood up and came around the table to where Severus was sitting.  
  
"Can we go now?" Perry asked.  
  
"We might as well get it over with."  
  
Severus looked at them, then pulled out his wand and held it over their outstretched arms. A shimmering cord appeared, binding their hands tightly together. The twins looked at each, grimaced and went out.  
  
"Please may I be excused too, Daddy?" Galahad asked quickly.  
  
"What's the hurry?"  
  
Galahad's eyes flicked nervously sideways towards his mother before returning to fix his father with a look that screamed 'duh'.  
  
"Ah, you haven't finished one of your assignments," Severus deduced easily. "What's it on?"  
  
"Ways of stopping your opponent casting spells in a duel."  
  
"Interesting subject, they should set that at Hogwarts sometime - you'd get some very interesting responses, I should imagine. You can go Galahad. Would you like Marcus to come up in a while and give you a hand? I seem to remember that he's an excellent dueler."  
  
"Okay," Galahad said, sounding rather apprehensive as he slipped out of the door.  
  
Mufy reappeared, waved his hands and all the cutlery and plates vanished, presumably transported back to the kitchen, wherever that was. Marc was a bit hurt at how reluctant Galahad seemed to be about being alone with him.  
  
"Don't worry," Altair said reassuringly, looking at his face. "He's just shy. We'll throw you together quite a lot over the next few weeks and he'll be used to you in no time. He can be a little devil when he knows you. Now, what do we need to cover with you? Make a list for me, will you Sev?"  
  
"Potions," the man said firmly. "Though that'll come easy once I acknowledge you and you receive the Snape gift."  
  
"Genealogies," Altair dictated. "Formal etiquette and social status. The dress code. Pureblood council."  
  
"What do I need all that for?"  
  
"You're a pureblood and as soon as you turn seventeen you will be confirmed as Master of one of the High Families - the Potters," Severus explained, looking to Altair for her next idea.  
  
"The Animagus transformation," she said promptly and Marc grinned. He'd always wanted to become an Animagus ever since he found out about the Marauders.  
  
"Wandless magic - you should be able to do that because of your mother's heritage. You're Albus' heir, so I'll have to ask him to teach you."  
  
"Latin."  
  
"Latin? Why? I know enough for my spells, don't I?"  
  
"Latin is the formal language," Altair said patiently. "No one speaks it much, but you need to be able to say and understand the formal phrases. Probably French and German as well; we have very strong wizarding links with those countries. Don't worry about that too much, we'll give you a QuikLearn charm to help you along."  
  
"I believe that's all for now, don't you?"  
  
"I should think so. Why don't you go and make a Gringotts appointment, Sev? And Marc, do you mind helping Galahad? He finds it hard to sit down and work with no supervision."  
  
"No, of course, I'd be happy to," Marc stammered. The delighted smile she gave him more than compensated for missing anything he might have thought to do instead.  
  
"Thanks. Tiddy!"  
  
"Yes Mistress Altair?" the house elf squeaked, appearing from nowhere with a crack.  
  
"Would you show Marc up to the schoolroom please."  
  
"Of course. Come along, young master. Where are Master Perry and Miss Merlyn, were theys bad again?"  
  
"You know what they're like. Sev put cuffs on them, so they'll be fine by the time they get back."  
  
"That is good, Mistress. When young Miss Merlyn is angry, she's is scaring Tiddy sometimes." 


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry this has been a while (okay, I'm saying that a lot. This'll be the last time). This is exam term for us, dunno about you guys in America and places, so I've got heaps of work to do and its holding me up. Plus I've run out of the prewritten stuff, so I'm writing as I go along. My recommendation for this chapter is 'Seasons of Healing' by Dien Alcyone. I also meant to get it up earlier, but my beta's computer is completely bust, so she's stuck in an Internet Cafe at the moment - better her than me. This means that you can't blame me for any blatantly obvious mistakes, I hope.

Marc followed Tiddy back upstairs, past a door he thought led to his own room, although he was feeling rather confused by the endless corridors of dark wooden doors. They stopped at the end of a corridor in front of another one.  
  
"This is the lesson room, Master Marc," Tiddy said, gesturing at the door. "Master Galahad is in here."  
  
"Thank you Tiddy."  
  
She beamed at him, seemingly overjoyed at the simple thanks, and vanished. Marc sighed and went in. Galahad was sitting at a desk, quill in hand, staring out of the window. His blue eyes were distant, vacant and his blond hair flopped languidly into his face. Marc could see that the parchment spread out in front of him was completely blank.  
  
"Need a hand?" he asked quietly. The younger boy spun around guiltily, flushed.  
  
"I can't think of anything to write."  
  
"Okay, so you've got to think about ways of stopping your opponent casting spells in a duel, right?"  
  
"Yes, but I can't think of anything."  
  
"Is there somewhere we can duel? You do know some basic dueling, don't you?"  
  
"Yes, of course."  
  
"If we can, it might make things easier for you. One of my friends learns best that way."  
  
"If you say so," Galahad said doubtfully, standing up and walking over to a bare wall on the other side of the room. Then he announced clearly, to no one in particular, "I'd like a dueling area please."  
  
There was a quiet pop, rather like the sound an experienced wizard makes when apparating, and the wall vanished. An area had appeared beyond its location perfectly set up for a beginners' dueling area, with padded sides and floor and what looked like wards up around it to control any stray spells. Marc stared at it in amazement, and Galahad smirked slightly, looking shy.  
  
"I'd forgotten you wouldn't know, sorry. It's a wizarding castle, of course, so it changes itself to suit us."  
  
"Uh, right. Come and stand opposite me, then," Marc directed, hoping desperately that he was taking the right approach.  
  
Galahad walked slowly into the centre of the area and stopped, looking uncertainly at Marc for further instructions.  
  
"That's it, now cast a spell at me, anything will do."  
  
"Impedimenta!"  
  
"Protego!"  
  
The charm bounced harmlessly off Marc's shield and was absorbed by the shimmering wards. When the flash died down, Marc looked back at Galahad.  
  
"Now, what did you need to do to cast that spell?"  
  
"Well, say the charm and do the correct wand movement, I guess. That's what I was taught to do, at any rate."  
  
"And if you couldn't do those, could you cast the spell?"  
  
"Course not."  
  
"So, let's start with the wand. What could you do to stop someone using their wand?"  
  
"Disarm them?"  
  
"And what's the charm for that?"  
  
"Expelliarmus."  
  
"Without their wand, they might have problems casting spells at you, don't you think?"  
  
"Yeah," Galahad said, grinning. "So all I need to do is work out what you need to be able to do to cast a spell and work out how to stop it. That means, uh, I could cast 'Silencio' on you, couldn't I?"  
  
"Almost right. Some people can do a few charms silently, but its much harder. I'd put it down though. What else?"  
  
"Uh, if you can't move your wand, so 'Petrificus Totalus'."  
  
"Yes, or even 'stupefy'. Tying someone up would probably have the same effect, but I've never tried it. Do you want to try some of them out?"  
  
"With me on the receiving end?"  
  
"Take it in turns, you can go first."  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
Marc didn't try to do anything this time, although he could have easily, just let himself be hit and fall to the ground. Galahad woke him up and helped him to his feet.  
  
"Petrificus Totalus!"  
  
Galahad's arms snapped tightly to his sides and he toppled stiffly to the floor.  
  
"Finite Incantem."  
  
"Silencio!" the younger boy shouted when Marc had helped him up. Marc concentrated hard and gave his wand a flick. Red sparks showered from the end.  
  
"You see," he explained, removing the charm on himself. "It is possible, just difficult. I can't do much stuff, but I can end the charm. I've been told before that I'm powerful, I don't think many people could do that. Do you want to try writing all of this down now? Father won't be pleased if you aren't finished."  
  
"Nor will Mum."  
  
"I'll stay here," Marc said encouragingly. "I'd like to try a few things out, I'm out of shape, haven't had a proper work out since school ended."  
  
Galahad sat down, somewhat reluctantly, it must be admitted, and began to write. Marc watched him start, noting the neat, slightly calligraphic handwriting. A few minutes later, after trying to change the layout of the duelling area himself multiple times, Marc spoke again, slightly embarrassed.  
  
"How did you say you change things again? I can't seem to manage it."  
  
"But it's easy, and you're of the Snape blood. Just step out of the area and ask the house nicely, aloud if you want, and it appears."  
  
"Just ask it?" Marc muttered to himself, irritated. Then he continued aloud. "That's it? Thanks. Okay, uh, I'd like a bare advanced duelling area with heavy shielding and a simulated duelling opponent please, with restricted Dark Magic and injury spells."  
  
There was a flash as the padding vanished and the warding became even clearer. A shadowlike opponent appeared in the area, wearing what appeared to be a Death Eater cloak and mask, wand held ready. Marc stepped in, raised his own and began.  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
"Protego! Impedimenta!"  
  
"Finite Incantem!"  
  
The pace gradually got faster and faster, with more and more complex spells being used. The magically animated opponent matched Marc's pace and skill level. After a few minutes, Galahad put down his quill and stared open- mouthed at the sixteen year old tumbling about in the area like a duelling champion.  
  
About half an hour later, Severus and Altair appeared in the doorway, come to check on how things were going. Severus didn't even stop to rebuke his youngest son for not working, he just stopped and stared himself.  
  
Another ten minutes on, the animated opponent was lying on the floor, looking more like a slug than anything else. Marc looked at it critically and grinned, his face flushed.  
  
"Doesn't look like I can use that one again, does it?" he said, stepping out again. "Thank you, would you remove it now?"  
  
The heap vanished and he turned to look at his audience, only just noticing that they were there.  
  
"Sorry, I was a bit tied up. Do you need me for anything?"  
  
"Nothing in particular. We have an appointment with Gringotts tomorrow at ten. At least that puts off your experiments a little bit longer," Severus said, still looking stunned.  
  
"Thank you Father, I'd almost forgotten," Marc said sweetly. Altair and Galahad grinned and the expression on Severus' face, despite not knowing what 'experiments' they were talking about. The man swiftly changed the subject.  
  
"Galahad, how are you getting on?"  
  
"Okay thanks, I'm almost done."  
  
"Excellent. Do you need Marcus any more?"  
  
"I think I'm okay, thanks."  
  
"We'll leave you to it then. I'll give you the grand tour of the house, Marc."  
  
"Sure."  
  
After the two men had left, Altair read Galahad's essay critically.  
  
"I never thought of using 'silencio' as a defence," she admitted. "Was it Marc who suggested that?"  
  
"Sort of. He asked me what I needed to do to cast a spell, and I told him."  
  
"So what's the answer?"  
  
"Wand movement and spoken incantation."  
  
"Than what did he do?"  
  
"He told me to think of ways of stopping someone from doing each of them. I thought of 'silencio'."  
  
"You do know that it isn't one hundred percent effective, don't you?"  
  
"Oh yes, Marc told me that as well. He showed me something, but he said that you had to be pretty powerful to do anything wandlessly, and hardly anyone could do anything useful."  
  
"He was a good teacher then? It certainly sounds like it."  
  
"Yes, he sounded like he'd taught people before, but I guess he's only sixteen, so he can't be a professor."  
  
"Really? We'll have to ask him about that, or Dad. All right then, that's good enough. You can go and play now, or join Dad and Marc if you want." 


	10. Chapter 10

Marc followed Severus out of the room and down towards the entrance hall.  
  
"Where did you learn to duel like that?" his father asked. "Don't tell me it was in your Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, Umbridge couldn't teach even first year defence adequately, even Sprout admitted that."  
  
"I guess I've just had more reason to work at it than most, not many boys having a famous Dark Lord ready to kill them on sight. I started duelling more seriously in my fourth year; I had to if I wanted to complete the tasks. Ron and Hermione helped me practice. In fifth year I was persuaded to take the DA, of course, and that made sure that I kept up with it. It would not have done for them to overtake me."  
  
" DA?"  
  
"Forget I said anything."  
  
" No, if Harry Potter was doing something, I'm sure Dumbledore would want us to arrange an alternative, wouldn't you say? It might take some organising, especially if its you usual crowd that you're talking about. I can hardly see them accepting a Snape as a leader."  
  
"Thank Merlin Hermione removed that hex," Marc muttered. "Okay. A few weeks into fifth year, Hermione decided that Umbridge was a complete incompetent and with Voldemort back we needed proper coaching. I think she was actually more concerned about her OWL results but it had the same result. She persuaded Ron to back her up, blackmail probably. Then she came up with the idea that I would be the ideal person to lead such a group. I was hardly about to argue seriously when she was in that kind of mood. Before I knew it, she'd recruited a whole crowd of students, mostly Gryffindors, and some older Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, to come. I suppose it was fairly useful."  
  
"From what I've heard about this mysterious study group, it helped students to get the best OWL and NEWT marks in Defence they've had in years. How did you arrange meetings? If you had to schedule to miss the three Quidditch practices and work around Umbridge's rules, yet still not arouse suspicion for talking too much to other houses."  
  
"Hermione did a Protean charm on some fake galleons. We changed the numbers to show the date and time."  
  
"Granger did a Protean charm aged fifteen? Remind me never to underestimate your friends, Marc. So, what does DA stand for?"  
  
"Well it was supposed to be Defence Association, but then Ginny came up with the idea of calling it Dumbledore's Army, because that's what Fudge was most afraid of."  
  
"Gryffindors," Severus sighed. "If it continues, I hope you'll be accepting certain Slytherins, on my recommendation. They aren't all Dark, you know."  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Excellent. Well, we're in the Entrance Hall of the Manor now. No interesting stories that I can think of, I'm afraid. Over on the far wall is a picture of my grandfather, Septimus Snape, Minister of Magic. He gets a bit pompous sometimes, just ignore him if you have to. Opposite him is Marcus Snape, Potions Master, founder of the Snape line and, should anyone ask, your namesake. He was the first to develop a strain of Veritaserum and a favourite student of Salazar Slytherin. The portrait hanging above the door opposite the entrance is, of course, Slytherin himself. You might like to talk to him sometime. He only ever talks in Parseltongue, a problem when none of us speak it. He'd probably welcome the company. The other portraits here are other family members, most, I'm afraid, I cannot name.  
  
Severus led Marc through, down the corridor to another huge room, this with a long, dark wooden table running its entire length. On the wall above the head of the table was a huge representation of the Snape crest and around the tops of the walls were tapestries. At eye level, old shields and swords were hung up, most with the Snape crest but a few bore other, less recognisable designs. It was, well, intimidating, especially with the gloomy black and green colour scheme.  
  
"The banqueting hall," Severus said, scowling slightly. "Everyone hates it, but we can't change it because of our reputation and it's the only room big enough for a proper formal meal. There was a pureblood council meeting here when I was seven. I had to serve my father, it was beneath his dignity to be served by house elves on such a momentous occasion. I can still remember how much my legs hurt from standing still behind his chair for the entire evening. I was only glad there were others in the same situation."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"The other heirs to council seats. Let's see, that would have been your uncle, Marcus Dumbledore. He was older than I was though, he must have been about fourteen at the time. Then Lucius Malfoy was there, James Potter and Sirius Black but I avoided them as much as possible. Merlin, they even avoided each other at that point. Theodore Bones and Alexander Pritchard would have been the other two."  
  
"Interesting combination."  
  
"The ancient wizards arranged it so that the High Council was made up of three traditionally light families, three traditionally dark and one neutral. It makes for some interesting dinner conversation though. I remember watching Harold Potter and Nigellus Black hexing each other during dessert while my father desperately tried to keep order. There were definitely reasons no one wanted to be the host."  
  
"What about now?"  
  
"There isn't really much of high council. Albus is still around, of course, so are Theodore Bones and myself. James Potter died, as you know, leaving Albus as your guardian until you came of age. Sirius died last summer, but hadn't taken his seat since before you were born anyway. I don't know who he named as his heir. Alexander Pritchard died in Azkaban five years ago and his son is a few years younger than you are. Finally, Lucius is in Azkaban unless he's been broken out already and Draco is too young to replace him. You'll learn more about all this later this summer. It's already on your lesson schedule. When your year graduates, the council will almost be full again."  
  
"So, are there any other interesting rooms?"  
  
"A ballroom, but that's been closed up, you've seen the library already. There's always been rumours of a secret room that some ancestor has used, but no one's found it yet, though you're welcome to look."  
  
"You bet I will. Maybe it takes a Parseltongue? That's what happened with the Chamber of Secrets."  
  
"I never heard the full story for that one either? You'll have to tell me sometime." 


	11. Chapter 11

Marc was shaken awake the next morning at nine o'clock. He wasn't too impressed - it was the holidays, for Merlin's sake, and he was a growing teenager. He needed his sleep.  
  
"What d'you want?" he groaned.  
  
"Time to get up," Severus said, sounding amused and remarkably cheerful. "We've only got an hour to prepare you for the appointment."  
  
"It doesn't take that long to eat shower, dress and eat breakfast."  
  
"As you're going to have to wear formal robes, it could easily. Its lucky the goblins keep complete confidentiality because we're going to have to get Mr Harry Potter's vault transferred to your name."  
  
"Okay, I get the point. Go away, I'll be down in a moment."  
  
"Would you like me to ask Altair or a house elf to help you with the robes or do it myself? You're never going to manage alone."  
  
"Kill me now," Marc muttered, then sighed. "You, I guess, just give me time to shower."  
  
When he returned, Severus had laid out what seemed like about five separate outfits on the bed, all in black and green.  
  
"First put on the leggings," he instructed, pointing at the black ball at the end of the bed. "The tunic, the other way round, plain black at the back, snake at the front, of course. Good, now take the robe, no that's the cloak. The robes are green. Finally the cloak, you've already found that one. Make sure the hood's free, we might need it if we go to one of the more public fireplaces."  
  
"I could have managed that."  
  
"I doubt it. I remember when Draco had to put on his for the first time, about a year ago. He spent half an hour experimenting - Lucius would never stoop to helping him - before I ended up going up."  
  
Marc snickered and went to look at himself in the mirror. He didn't recognise the youth staring back. He looked medieval, almost, his robes, tunic and cloak made from the finest silk-lined velvet. It suited him though, especially with the black and green colouring. He could quite easily see Draco Malfoy looking stunning in them as well.  
  
"What are the Malfoy colours?" he asked curiously, hoping they'd be some garish combination like crimson and emerald or...  
  
"Royal blue and silver."  
  
Damn, okay, he'd look amazing in them. Shame, really.  
  
"Do I need socks or anything?"  
  
"Sorry, I must have forgotten. Do you have black socks?"  
  
"Yes, school ones."  
  
"Perfect, put on your boots when you come downstairs. Its usually easier if you sit down," he commented, watching his eldest son hop around the room attempting to pull on his socks. "I'll see you downstairs."  
  
After a two course, leisurely breakfast, Marc was introduced to his soft, knee-length boots. They were black, of course. Then Altair gave him a thorough check over to make sure he was presentable and sent him outside to where his father was waiting. They walked out to the Floo, pulled up their hoods and went through to Gringotts Bank, Diagon Ally, London.  
  
A goblin met them at the fire and bowed deeply as they stepped out.  
  
"Master Snape, I am Griphook. Please, follow me."  
  
Severus nodded curtly and swept through the crowded main room behind the goblin, Marc in his wake, desperately trying to look as impressive. He just couldn't get his robes to billow as effectively as his father's did. They sat down opposite a desk.  
  
"What did you require from Gringotts bank, Master Snape?" Griphook asked.  
  
"I've come to acknowledge my son and have him added to the records here."  
  
"Very well sir. May I enquire your son's name?"  
  
"Marcus Severus Godric Salazar Snape."  
  
"His age?"  
  
"Sixteen."  
  
"Date of birth?"  
  
"31st July 1980."  
  
"Is he a pureblood?"  
  
"Naturally."  
  
"The name of his mother?"  
  
"Alba Eirian Rowena Dumbledore."  
  
"Therefore, deceased. Very well, is he the child of a marriage, a soul bonding or illegitimate?"  
  
"A soul bonding."  
  
"You realise that this leaves him behind your other children in succession to becoming the head of the Snape family?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"May I confirm his magical signature?"  
  
"Certainly. Marcus, hold out your hand, palm down, over the parchment."  
  
Marc did as he was told and stared as a shield appeared on the parchment. On it, a phoenix perched on the back of a stag, in its beak was a snake.  
  
"Very interesting," the goblin said. "Might I inquire whether Master Marcus has had a previous identity?"  
  
"He was Harry Potter."  
  
"Excuse me for a moment, I will find his records. Yes, he is the fully adopted son of James Potter, Master of the House of Potter. He is heir to that house and will take up his position when he comes of age upon his next birthday. There is a note here about the House of Black."  
  
"Black?"  
  
"The will of Master Sirius Black, recently deceased, will be read out on 11th August and the presence of Mr Potter has been requested. He has also. . ."  
  
"Also what?"  
  
"As godson, he has been named as heir to Master Sirius Black should he agree to complete the adoption. Should he refuse, the estate of the Black family will pass to Master Draco Malfoy, heir to the house of Malfoy."  
  
"He accepts."  
  
Then Severus turned to Marc.  
  
"This basically gives you the gifts of a member of the Black family, as you already hold those of a Potter. They usually have to do with shapeshifting, either Animagus or Metamorphmagus. You also have obligations to financially look after members of the Black family, not that any of them will have problems."  
  
"Fine, if you think its okay."  
  
"The documents, if you please Griphook."  
  
"Here Master Snape, the young gentleman need only read the document, you will find it quite simple, and sign along the dotted using his chosen signature as Master of the Black family."  
  
Severus skimmed it.  
  
"The usual sort of thing Marcus. Sirius Black adopts you as his heir, giving you all the priviledges and responsibilities given to a true born son of his blood and placing you above all other scions of his house in terms of inheritance. He suggests that you take the name Orion to your own as acknowledgement of your new responsibilities and use it should you ever wish to hide your fame behind another identity. Not a bad idea, for him. I should sign it 'Orion Sirius Black'. That would mean that, like Harry James Potter, it would be a proper legal identity should you ever require it. It might just be the answer we need to your problem of Dumbledore's army. Signing it releases the gifts of the Black family to you."  
  
Marcus took the pen and scrawled 'Orion Sirius Black' on the dotted line indicated, beneath Sirius' flourish of a signature. A warm glow spread through his body.  
  
"Has the gift come to you?"  
  
"Yes Father, I think so."  
  
"Excellent. Does Gringotts require anything else of us?"  
  
"If you would just sign the acknowlegement of your son, Master Snape, that will be all. Details of the reading of the will shall be forwarded to your home address as soon as possible. Should you have any more inquiries to make of us, we are happy to serve."  
  
"Ah, one other thing. Kindly transfer the vault belonging to Mr Potter so that it is under the name Marcus Snape."  
  
"Easily done, Master Snape. Allow me to escort you to the entrance hall." 


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning, Marc got up early and ate breakfast provocatively dressed in his Gryffindor Quidditch robes. To his surprise, his father didn't comment, just started muttering about safety spells. After they ate another huge meal, he revised the books once more, did his warm up stretches and found his broomstick. This was going to be fun.

He only had the mornings to work with - the afternoons being taken up with lessons and the evenings he'd planned to use to practice his duelling. The first things it was suggested that he try were exercises to help him control his broom. He stood, the broom lying on the floor behind him, and tried to mentally summon it. When he'd managed that, he started guiding it around the pitch, summoning it to him every few minutes. If he couldn't position the broom where he wanted it in mid-air, he was going to be in trouble.

Under the anxious (and admiring) eyes of the rest of the family, Marc finally began the impressive stuff about an hour later. He flew up about ten metres into the air, then slowly stood up on the broom. He fell off. He'd managed this before in his very first Quidditch match, but it was very different so much higher and without the snitch to focus on. He landed, caught five centimetres above the ground with a jerk, and promptly remounted for more practice. By the end of the morning, he was flying comfortably around - just very slowly - and was talking enthusiastically about all the things he was thinking of trying next. Altair's face was getting greener and greener.

The next day he spent falling off his broom and hanging upside down above the pitch by his ankles because he hadn't managed to coax his broom into catching him before he it.

The next few days were the same.

A week later he jumped off and his broom soared down to settle comfortably underneath him with enough time for him to pull up out of the dive. He'd done it. The most famous manoeuvre of the Silvanian technique and one of the most difficult and he'd managed it after hours of solid training.

A few days later, dressed in black and silver formal robes of the Black family, he looked at Altair with horror.

"I can't do that! It's far too. . . too. . ."

"Its just how Sirius used to act, and we agreed you were going to try and be a bit more flamboyant, didn't we?" she said, her tone starting to get dangerous.

"Yes Mum, sorry Mum," Marc said quickly. Then he turned to his cousin, standing beside him in the Dumbledore robes. "Are you sure you'll do it?"

"I'm the only metamorphmagus around, aren't I? Who else would, kiddo?"

"Children, children," Merlin interrupted, doing a remarkable impression of Albus Dumbledore. "Now is not the time for this."

Marc scowled at her, she smirked back. Altair intervened quickly before fireworks broke out between the two most hot-tempered of his family.

"Fix your hair, then Sev can go over it one last time."

He sighed and spelled his hair silver to match his eyes. A growth spell followed, leaving it loose down to his shoulders.

"Marc, you'll go first. When you get there, ignore everyone else to start with. Next you'll see 'Harry's' head in the fire. Act like he's a good friend but like you're trying to get rid of him. We don't want to hang around long enough for your friends to notice anything wrong. Then I will come through, we've already discussed how you'll act. Finally, Miss Dumbledore will enter. You will act the perfect gentleman, however challenging that will be, and escort her to your seats."

"I know, we've been through this all before."

"Stage fright," Merlin whispered loudly to Peregrine. He was meant to hear. At a glare for his father, Marc ignored them and stepped into the fire.

"Gringotts, Room 253!" he called and was whisked away.

He arrived in a small hall in the depths of Gringotts. Despite Sirius' status as an escaped convict, it was already very full: all of the Order were there and a few others that Marc assumed were old school friends and relatives. Several of them turned to identify the new arrival. Strangely enough, no one seemed to be able to. Marc smiled sweetly at them and waited. He had to admit that in his black and silver robes, with his silver hair and eyes and perfectly tanned skin from his Quidditch, he did cut quite a stunning figure. He was just glad he wouldn't have to go back to school like this.

A moment later the fire flared again and a head appeared. Marc winced inwardly - it was very weird talking to himself.

"Yes Harry, what is it?" he asked, trying the 'big brother' style approach.

"Just wanted to make sure you'd say 'hi' to them from me."

"I told you I would, didn't I? Gramps will kill you if he knows you're there. Besides, there are other people wanting to Floo in, aren't there?"

"Yes. I'll see you later then."

Marc breathed out. That had gone okay. As his father stepped through, he bowed slightly and stepped aside. Everyone suddenly lost their interest in the fire and went back to their conversations. No one crossed Severus Snape, especially his former students.

A few minutes later, when Marc's self control in preventing himself from fidgeting was starting to waver, Nymphadora Dumbledore stepped through looking every inch the scion of a pureblood house in the silver and white robes of the Dumbledore family. He bowed with a flourish, cursing his stepmother as he did so for the embarrassment she was causing him, and she curtsied deeply. That made him feel better - she was hating this just as much as he was. He offered his arm as he'd practised so many times and led her formally to their seats at the front of the room.

At that, Remus Lupin, who'd been asked by Sirius to read out the will, got up onto the platform at the front of the room. The room fell silent.

"_This is the will of Sirius Octavius Black. I will begin by asking you to forgive anything in this document that is not perfect legal language. I was unable to access legal advice at the time of writing due to reasons beyond my control._

_To Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody I leave any equipment and items from my career as an Auror. I know they will put them to use - they have been sadly neglected recently._

_To Ronald Weasley, Remus Lupin and Severus Snape jointly I leave the contents of my personal library. Ronald should know exactly what he is to do with this inheritance._

_To Severus Snape I leave any Potions, ingredients and brewing equipment found in my townhouse. Contained amongst these are some valuable basilisk fangs._

_To Remus Lupin, I leave exactly one sixth of the money in Gringotts vault 711, my personal vault. With this, he requested to buy a new wardrobe. To him is also left the photographs and memorabilia from my school years. _

_A further sixth of this vault is left to Albus Dumbledore, to be used to further the work of the Order of the Phoenix. The property that has been given over to him continues in his possession until the need for it is no longer present._

_Two sixths of the contents of said vault is left to Arthur and Molly Weasley to be dealt with as they see fit._

_The final two sixths is left to my cousin Andromeda or the house of Black to be inherited upon her demise by her daughter Nymphadora. I formally request that she take guardianship of my heir, who has not yet reached his majority, and look after his interests until he is capable himself._

_Everything else belonging to the family Black is left to my son, Orion Sirius Black. He is heir to my name and estate and inherits the position of head of the House of Black immediately upon my demise. To him also goes the seat on the pureblood high council and responsibility for the scions of the house of Black, few though they are._

_As I have stated, let it be done._

_Sirius Octavius Black_

_Master of the House of Black_

_Auror_

_Order of Merlin 3rd Class_"

Remus stepped down and the silence was broken as people began to talk. For Marc, there had been no surprises, although for practically everyone else, the knowledge that Sirius, an acknowledged ladies' man in his youth, had actually settled down long enough to sire a son was a revelation. Even more astonishing was his lack of discovery in the notoriously nosy wizarding world.

Sandwiched firmly between his cousin and Severus, Marc walked over to join the group containing Remus, Albus and the Weasleys. His father was acting the disapproving guardian to him and was no doubt enjoying every minute of his discomfort. Hermione, of course, could not attend since she wasn't a pureblood. This was supposedly also the case for 'Harry'.

"Well done Moony," Marc said quietly, coming up behind him.

"Orion," Remus acknowledged him. "You're looking well. You've grown since I last saw you."

"Well, it was about time. You have Mum to blame for the hair, I promise you it was not my idea."

"I never expected that it was. It's not quite your style."

"I've been informed I'll be wearing it like this whenever I'm in public. She thinks is a better image for a pureblood to present. I couldn't care less personally."

"It does look a bit strange on you," Remus said, smiling slightly in amusement and approval. The long hair in particular would hide any resemblance to Harry Potter. "I apologise, everyone this is Orion Black. He's been going through some intense training, that's why he hasn't been attending Hogwarts. Have you finished now?"

"Almost. By next term, I'll start working for the Order properly, though I can' t see them allowing me in any sort of combat situation for a good few years."

"I should think not," Molly Weasley said sharply. "Not at your age. You can't be much older than Ron here."

"I'm younger actually," Marc said, winking at her.

"Exactly. I'm Molly Weasley dear, these are Arthur, Charlie, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny. My eldest son, Bill, is over talking shop with Alastor. I assume you know Remus and Albus?"

"I have that pleasure. They've been kind enough to assist with my training. I am sure everyone here knows Severus Snape. This is my cousin Miss Dumbledore."

"Albus?" Arthur said, sounding surprised.

"Oh yes, I was married. She's been doing much the same as Orion as regards to her education. Informed me quite plainly aged ten that she didn't want to go to Hogwarts because everyone would stare at her. Quite the character she was."

"Grandad," Buzz moaned. Marc grinned at her.

"Come on, we'd better get back to work. I really want to get out of lessons soon and I promised Merlin I'd help her with that Quidditch move. It was a pleasure meeting everyone - I'm looking forward to working with everyone in the future. I am sure we will be seeing a lot of each other when you return to Hogwarts."

With that, he bowed slightly to the assembled company, shook Remus' hand, hugged Dumbledore and led his entourage out, leaving a stunned group of people behind. Yes this was what they would have expected from someone so closely related to Sirius, but to be so dashing with them in that setting, when they'd hardly met, was surprising. As for seeing them next term, what could he mean by that? If he was younger than Ron, he was far too young to take the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, however qualified he was.


End file.
